


Love at First Flight

by verymetalbasterd



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, flight!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-03 15:04:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12750687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verymetalbasterd/pseuds/verymetalbasterd
Summary: Frank is an international hotel inspector and is constantly bored by the people he meets on flights.Until he meets Gerard.





	1. Frank Hates Planes

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this when I was 12 you're welcome

 

 

 

 

Frank hated planes.

With a passion.

In fact, he hated a lot of things, but planes were pretty high up on the list, just after spiders, probably.

Not flying, necessarily. He was good with flying, but he hated that fact you were cramped up next to a random stranger who always had some incredibly annoying habit.

When Frank first got his job as a Hotel Inspector he had known he would have to ride planes, but hell, the pay was great. He was paid to go on holiday at least once every month. Who doesn’t want that job?

He was lucky to get it at such a young age, he dropped out of college and had to find a job and at the mere age of 18, he found this one in the local newspaper of all places!

He had always hoped to find someone interesting on these planes, all these people who were seated next to him were all complete and utter idiots. Nobody really interacted with him.

Well, that’s probably because people think Frank is the kind of guy that’d kill them in their sleep.

Frank hated that.

Frank has that punk look. He’s got tattoos laced up his arms and a scorpion on his neck. And since the job he works in doesn’t require uniform, he wears band shirts and black skinny jeans with this Chucks or Doc Martens. He often sports his spiked leather jacket, too. His hair is cut like a mohawk, though he doesn't really style it that way. The mohawk part of it is black, while the sides are a yellowy off-white. He thinks about re-bleaching them, or going red. Hair like his doesn’t usually go down well in business class.

He hated that fact that it absolutely stank of cologne and/or perfume. Nothing smelled real. It smelt like everyone in the plane – Bar Frank, who only really used any drugstore deoderant. (And showered, of course)  – was swimming in a pool of the heavily scented liquids.

He hated the fact that everyone was the same. Everyone. They’re all wearing business suits, not one person wearing anything but – aside from himself. No-one ever showed any signs of personality or colour. It was all dull and dreary.

Frank hated that.

From what you've read so far, you've probably gathered that Frank certainly hates a lot of things. You might think this makes him a negative person. But really, he just likes complaining.

He always hoped that there would be something new on each plane ride, but no, they were all the same. He had had this job now for about a year, twelve different holiday destinations, today was his thirteenth. September 3rd, the day where Frank’s life would change with a single flight to Wales.

Frank was outside the airport in his hometown in Jersey, smoking his last cigarette before his flight to Wales, home of the Welsh, in Britain. Frank loved the UK. He had been to Scotland, London, Ireland and many places within the country, but never Wales, for some reason.

He didn’t speak Welsh but he was told that only 5% of people living in Wales spoke Welsh, which was to his liking but Frank likes hearing the different accents of people from all over the world.

Initially, he thought we would be travelling to South Wales, since the capital is located there, but he soon learnt that his boss had assigned him elsewhere.

His flight would take him to Manchester, in England, located near the North of Wales. And then he’d get a train going through Chester to Prestatyn, his destination. He was inspecting a hotel close to the beach of the small town, called The Beaches Hotel.

Frank wondered what Prestatyn was like, of course, he had read a few things while researching. But reading about a place isn't the same as experiencing it.

Frank would be stuck on that god forsaken plane for seven whole hours, he wasn’t looking forward to that but it would be worth it, for Wales. And the changing of his life, but Frank didn’t know that yet.

Frank is inside the Airport, waiting until his flight arrives, sat outside a Starbucks he just bought a coffee from. He looks around and wonders if he’s going to see any of these people on the plane when sees a man with a mop of black hair sat on one of the booths not too far away. He’s wearing the same shirt Frank is, a black Smashing Pumpkins one with ‘Smashing Pumpkins’ written across the top in white and an evilly grinning pumpkin – like the one Frank has on his back – on the front, a hammer embedded into the top of the pumpkin. He was wearing plain black skinny jeans with black boots with buckles on them. The man was wearing sunglasses but Frank felt as if the man was looking right back at him.

No way would he be on the same flight as Frank. Well, he might be, although he highly doubts the guy would be in 1st class. 

He sighs, thinking about all the drab and dreary old people he'd going to be sharing his flight with.


	2. Frank Hates Trains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank finds the weird goth dude again, and asks him for directions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be trying too hard with this?? Idk
> 
> I hope you like it anyway!

Frank sees the black-clad guy in the booth pick up his coffee and stand, though Frank doesn’t see where he goes because he hears the lady over the tannoy annouce that the boarding for his flight is open. He dumps his empty coffee cup in a nearby trash can before turning to leave.

 

*

 

‘Gate 15, Gate 15, Gate 15’ runs through Frank’s head as he scans the signs of the airport. No matter how many times he flies, he always seems to get fucking lost in the damn airport.

He’s reading a particularly interesting sign which reads ‘Gate 4 is closed,’ when the guy from earlier literally walks right in front of him, as if he was a black cat crossing his path.

Luckily Frank isn’t superstitious.

He hurriedly half-jogs over to the dude, tapping him on the shoulder. The guy jumps so much it startles Frank. Turning to face him, an annoyed look on his face, the guy pulls out an earbud from his ear, and Frank almost sees his features soften under his sunglasses the moment the guy sees him. “Can I help you?” The guy asks, slight annoyance in his voice.

Frank should really find something else to call him other than ‘the guy’, it’s quite repetitive.

“Uh, yeah, “ Frank stammers. “I was wondering if you know where I can find Gate 15?” Frank shrugs and it’s at this point he realises he could have just asked someone who fucking works at the airport. He’s given a questioning look and the man opposite sort of half-smiles.

Frank notices that this guy is like, really tall. And has the whitest fucking skin, he looks like he’s dumped a whole bag of flour on him for Christ’s sake!

“I’m actually going to Gate 15 right now, if you wanna tag along?” Flour man speaks, and Frank nods.

 

*

 

Frank is quickly speed-walking behind Gerard, which Frank learned was his name after a speedy introduction, he notices that Gerard is just taking normal strides.

Frank hates being short.

He follows grumpily as the taller man directs them to the Gate.

“You go to the UK often?” Gerard asks, Frank looks up at him, seeing that Gerard had slowed down slightly so they were walking together.

“Uh, yeah.” Frank clears his throat, “I’m going somewhere I’ve never been before, though.

Gerard hums, nodding his head. They reach Gate 15 and stand in the boarding queue. “Where’s that?” He pulls his passport and ticket from his jacket pocket.

“Wales. Never been there before, and now my job sends me there.” Frank shrugs.

Gerard hums again, “I’m going there, too, actually.” He laughs lightly, Frank senses that Gerard is kind of shy, he seems to be keeping to himself.

Frank can’t blame him, really. If some short punk-ass tattoo-covered loud dude came up to him asking for directions, he wouldn’t even be as open as Gerard is being with him.

As soon as Frank thinks about asking why Gerard is going to Wales, Gerard answers, “My brother lives over there, he’s just had a kid.”

Frank nods and takes note that Gerard is still wearing his sunglasses. It’s cloudy out and not exactly bright inside either.

“What line of work are you in if they’re sending you to Wales?” Gerard asks him.

“I’m actually a hotel inspector. Yeah, it’s not bad.” He pulls out his own passport and ticket from his carry-on, checking he has everything he needs.

“Oh, so you go all over, then?”

 

*

 

After talking for a while longer about his job to Gerard, the two got split up due to Frank being in 1st Class. Gerard had smiled sweetly at Frank upon their departure, and Frank got an eyeful of these tiny, straight teeth and smiled back at him, giving a little wave before finding his seat among the sea of drab, rich snobs.

 

*

 

The flight was relatively uneventful. Frank napped and updated his firm that he was on his way to his destination. He also went over the journey plan for getting from Manchester to Prestatyn. Though it was just one direct train, he still got nervous about it.

Frank thinks he sees a mop of black hair down the aisle of the plane as someone comes through the curtain of 1st Class, but other than that, Frank doesn’t see Gerard again for the remainder of the flight.

He eats the flight lunch, avoiding the greyish peas served with his meal. Lying back, he hears the Pilot announce the plane is about to land.

Frank closes his eyes during the landing, convincing himself that he’s definitely not afraid of flying.

 

*

 

Frank takes a taxi to the train station, where he catches his scheduled train straight to Prestatyn after literally fighting his way through about a _million_ people just to get to the damn platform.

Frank hates trains.

Now he just has to plan his way from the station in the small town to the Hotel. He thinks about getting another taxi.

Sat in a window seat of a turquoise coloured train, he puts his laptop on the table and grumpily scrolls through his emails. He had napped on the flight and got a crick in his neck.

He reads an email he was sent about the place he was staying in, and is glad to see that it’s literally on the beach. Which makes sense, seeing as it’s called the Beaches Hotel.

Frank decides he’s done with emails and just blankly stares out the window, taking in his surroundings.

Wales is really hilly, it seems.

 

Frank doesn’t hate that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave feedback if you can!
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter! :)


	3. Frank Hates Jetlag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People help frank with his suitcase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the chapters in this fic are really short??? Im sorry but they should start getting longer!!

Upon arrival at the train station, Frank is greeted with his first challenge, stairs. A lot of them.

Frank hates stairs.

His short legs get tired really quickly, meaning when faced with a lot of stairs, he has to take a break mid-way. This is going to be a lot harder with his suitcase.

Turns out, to get off the train station in Prestatyn, you have to find your way over a bridge which takes you either side of the station, one side being the town, and the other being the taxi bay.

He hears the train he just left leave the station.

He begins hauling his suitcase up the stairs one at a time.

When he gets about halfway up the stairs, he hears another train pull into the station. Not long after, a sea of people filter past him and he hears a voice from behind him. “There’s an elevator behind the stairs, y’know.”

Frank whips his head around to see the person speaking. It’s Gerard.

After the initial shock of seeing the man from the airport, he replies, “Well it looks like I’ve already chosen my fate.” He dumbly looks up the stairs, just seeing the entrance to an elevator over the top.

Gerard laughs, “D’you want a hand?”

Frank nods. Gerard lifts the other end of the suitcase and helps Frank carry it to the top of the stairs.

Luckily, to leave the bridge there are ramps. Once the suitcase is set down, Gerard pulls out a lighter from his pocket, lighting the cigarette he had tucked behind his ear.

“Want one?” Gerard asks.

“Please.”

Frank lights up, inhales, and exhales the burning smoke from his lungs, thanking Gerard.

After smoking and asking Gerard for directions, “ _Yeah, just follow signs for Barnaby Beach._ ” He had said his goodbyes and began to leave when Gerard asked if he wanted to have a little tour of the town.

Frank said yes.

Also, Barnaby Beach is a dumb name.

 

*

 

Once Frank left Gerard, the boys going off different sides of the bridge, he sees a taxi parked in the bay, window rolled down. The car was black and had ‘Toro Taxi’ plastered on the side of it. 

He approaches the car, crouching down to see inside, “Hey.” He says to the taxi driver, who had one hell of a head of hair.

The driver jumps, “HEY!” He says in shock, hands suddenly gripping the steering wheel. Perhaps he was sleeping.

Frank doesn’t flinch, but he’s surprised at the shock, and amused at the way the guy's hair moved when he was startled.

The driver calms himself, “Where to?” He asks, setting up the taxi meter.

“Can I get to Barnaby Beach, please?” Frank asks, sighing. The driver nods.

The driver enters in the code and leaves the car, coming round the back and popping open the trunk. Frank is about to lift his suitcase into the boot when the driver picks it up for him, placing it down in the empty space and slamming down the hood.

“I’m Ray, by the way. I own the local taxi service.” The driver smiles, offering Frank a hand. Frank takes it and shakes, introducing himself. “Well, Frank if you ever need to go anywhere, call my company and we’ll send you one of our cabs!” Ray says, handing the shorter man a business card.

Frank smiles at Ray, both of them making their way back round to the front of the car. Frank opens the passenger side door and sits.

Ray starts up the car and sets off.

 

*

 

For some duration of the journey, Frank and Ray sit in a comfortable silence as Frank stares out the window.

Frank kind of wants Ray to turn on the radio or something, but instead Ray speaks, “Saw Gerard help you with your bags up the stairs!”

Frank nods, “You know him?” He asks,

“Everyone knows everyone here!” Ray says, as if it was supposed to be obvious. “But I met him through his brother, Mikey. He’s just had a baby with his wife!”

Frank vaguely remembers Gerard telling him about coming to Wales to visit his brother.

 

*

 

Upon arrival to the Hotel, Ray had helped him with his suitcase and shook his hand as he left, telling him to phone the cab when he needed a lift. Frank promised he would.

He checks in and the bellboy takes his bags.

Riding the lift to his floor, he thinks about how well he’s going to sleep. But also how jetlagged he’s going to be.

Frank hates jetlag, but hey, so does everybody else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!! Any feedback is welcomed!

**Author's Note:**

> yeah Im gonna continue it even though its been six years since I wrote it


End file.
